


It's An Empty Reward

by Mod J (AlienNerd)



Series: Units D & G [1]
Category: CATWS - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), James "Bucky" Barnes - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier - Fandom, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: HTP, HYDRA Trash Party, Hydra, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienNerd/pseuds/Mod%20J
Summary: It’s 1979. The Winter Soldier suffers a head injury on a mission which has destabilized his mind and is in a state of rage fed by confusion. He’s become a shrieking maniac, has killed more staff than they can spare for one project and the handlers are getting nervous as the scientist say if they freeze him like that, he may never function properly. There’s only one other method of getting Winter Soldier back on track.





	It's An Empty Reward

**Author's Note:**

> It seems to me by the end of CATWS Bucky and before CACW he is not the “James Buchanan Barnes” he used to be, the cis masculine bro dude with a heart of gold. Nor is he just the Winter Soldier in, what I call, full wind up mode, a cold, emotionless & efficient death engine. Trauma changes you and so does mental manipulation. I was trying to learn about his core personality as a human character, the stuff you can’t take away with experiences or environmental changes.
> 
> So I just going say now this story may contain triggers of sexual abuse or sexual violence. There is depiction of mental illness, but it doesn’t represent any real persons or their experiences. Please send me a note if I can do anything to make certain this fiction doesn’t harm anyone.
> 
> Also, if you don't want things like this coming out of your head, don't listen to The Winter Soldier theme from CATWS on repeat whilst you write. But you know, if you're into that sort of thing, go for it.
> 
> Also, I'm sorry.

“Are you kidding?? We can’t get him anywhere near the chair!! He won’t let anyone do anything anywhere near him. I’m talking complete loss of recognition of present surroundings, inability to tell friendly from foe. He won’t eat, bathe, sleep, this is the most alert and deprogrammed I've ever seen him, there’s no sneaking up on him!” The man screams into the phone.

“Listen, these are some extreme tactics. She’s not gonna go in and ask him to play nice. She is going to apply advanced psychology and mood manipulation to shift his focus. When he guard is down then the real attack begins, all we need to do is be ready to read the list. If it doesn’t work and only if it doesn’t work, then will we execute. So man up and open the door!!” Comes the voice from the other line.

The man flinches as the phone bangs in his ear signifying the end of the conversation. “We’re all gonna die if he gets out…” he whispers. Switches are flipped and warning lights flash. The iron doors open exposing a chamber with no corners. The woman steps inside. The Soldier makes for her, fast as lightning.

***

I think about taking her down then gun for the door when she doesn’t shoot me on sight. She hooks her foot on my ankle as I pass and I trip up. I miss my chance. The men outside open fire as the doors close. There’s no way I can make it passed their fire with my head so messed up.

I turn back and the woman is across the room, out of the path of fire standing against the wall to my left. She looks at the overturned gurney, the mess of thrown food I’ve refused and the torn johnny on the floor from guys fighting to restrain me to the gurney. She looks me up and down.

I’m bruised and dirty. I had defended myself from 9 men today, three of whom I definitely killed. She doesn’t seem like she’s here to fight. I've never seen her before. They are trying to drop some surprise on me but I can't think strait enough to figure it out.

“Good morning, Soldier.” She says in English. Somehow I doubt she's a translator for the men with guns.

It’s hard to hear. She has some accent on her and I can hear people who aren’t there, talking, screaming, laughing. Noises like trucks roaring past you as you stand on a sidewalk, a noise like howling wind, another noise I can’t quite pin point. I don’t remember what the thing that makes it is called, it's loud and repetitive, only one thing makes this noise and I can't recall what that thing is.

It’s hard to see her. Random images superimpose all over my field of vision. She’s dressed strangely. It looks like civilian wear, but I’ve never seen anything like it. On her upper she wears some form of grey sweater and a pair of glasses unlike style I’ve seen before. On her lower half she wears some type of loose fitting grey slacks with white un-decorated shoes with flat bottoms.

“I said I want out!!!” I scream.“I don’t know who you are or how I got here, but you’re going to let me out of here!!!”

“Look at yourself, man, we can’t just toss you out the front door as is! You’ve got to at least—” She starts.

“STOP IT!! JUST STOP!!” I scream, covering my ears. My fist are clenched and my knuckles are white. There’s thundering noise in my head, a crowd of people one second and music at another moment and gunfire the next and–

I can’t keep things straight. One minute I’m standing on a street corner, then falling through the air, for a second confined in something like a coffin or closet with a small window. Before I can register what is beyond the window, I’m in this room again. I’m so disoriented I almost lose my footing. Sometimes I see people, faces or things and then they vanish. Lights and color swirl in the air as images flow into each other. There’s noise everywhere.

‘Oh God,’ I think, ‘I can’t take this. I can’t see right or hear in all the noise. I can’t breathe. I can’t catch my breath. What’s happened to me?’

I back away and try to think clearer.

The only thing I can’t do is let my guard down, so what if I see things that aren’t there, so what if I (oh, God) don’t know who I am. I’ll fight till the end dammit, I’ll fight till I die. They’re going to let me go or they’re going to have to kill me.

Suddenly, my left arm is in terrible pain. I look down at it. First I see some kind of metal cast on it, then for a quick flash it’s normal. I blink then I see a bloody pulpy mess where my forearm and hand should be.

“Arggh! Oh God, my -ah!- my arm!! Wha–what’s wrong with my arm!? Jesus, wha–” And like that the pain disappears. But my arm still looks strange. It looks like something from the cover of an Isaac Asimov novel.

I shake my head a bit and circle to her left, I’m breathing heavily trying not to hyperventilate. “Wha–what did you people do to me? Why can’t I remember anything? What is happening? Every time the door opens they try to kill or tranquilize me. They’re speaking something that isn’t English and I have no clue what they want!” I’m shouting. Half because I’m terrified, half because I’m livid."What day is it? Where am I? How long has this been going on? I don't remember anything before this morning."

“Sir, You have been in a terrible accident. You’ve been showing signs of mental illness and we can’t just let you go from here like this. You’ve been informed quite a few times over the last few days but it seems you’re having trouble retaining your memories. I’m afraid revealing too much to you in your state may put you life at risk.” She says.

“You are very important to the organization and we do not want to lose you. You’re one of Hydra’s best field operatives, which makes you dangerous even if you don’t remember your training. My name is Deitre Jeffords. I am here to help you alleviate your symptoms so we can get your needs met and get you treated. You’ve suffered head trauma, possible bleeding in the brain. At any moment you can slip into a coma or die .” She said calmly turning slowly and keeping pace with me. “If you let me, I can help you remember what you need to know.”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you’re not lying to me?” I ask. My energy is flagging badly, but I still have enough to fight if I have to.

For a moment the entire room seems to tilt and shift and I lose my balance. I stop mid step with one foot firmly planted behind and one on the ground in front of me. I take several deep breaths.

“Because no one else is going to come in here while we talk. I will remain unarmed and aside from earlier I will not touch you or invade your space. Just listen to my voice, listen to what I have to say. If you agree to it, I know of some therapies that, while physically taxing, pose no real threat to your life or mind, though it may be a harsh experience. First, you need to have a seat here.” As she speaks she turns away, walks to the gurney and sets it to rights. She takes up the sheets from the floor and quickly tucks them around the mat of the gurney. She walks away from it leaving me loads of space to maneuver towards it.

I’m so tired, I don’t even question her. I feel this may be a bad decision. I shamble over to the make shift bed and sit on the edge. “Let’s say I say 'Yes’, then what?”

She leans with her back to the wall across from me. “Then I will walk you through a series of exercises meant to help you ground yourself in the moment. This will clear your mind and give you peace of mind long enough to figure out what to do about the head trauma.” Dietre says.

“Mental exercises?” I say doubtfully.

“And physical. This is why I need your cooperation. Because these procedures can be quite bracing, you also may need to be restrained for your own safety. It may be the only time I need to touch you. If you can handle it, the therapy should work quickly. I will need you to say aloud you still wish to continue.”

“Will there be pain?” I feel a spike of dread. I have no clue what she is talking about. But she has no tells showing and indeed seems to believe everything she is saying.

Also, I’m kinda sure she just dared me to do this and if I remember anything, I know it’s not in me to back down from a challenge even when subtly pushed like that.

“Not much, most people don’t feel more than an absolute minimum of discomfort. If you’ ll let me, I’ll get my medical gear from the guards and if you wish to, inspect it and on your say so, we will begin.” She answers.

She turns toward a device high in the corner of the room and looks at it for a long moment. I think it’s a camera but it doesn’t look like the kinds I’ve seen before other than having a similar lens.

Alarms begin to wail again and the door once again slides open. I brace myself for funny business. A bag that looks like across between a duffel and a lady’s hand bag is pushed into the door opening under two hovering gun barrels. The doors begin to close again.

Deitre gesture toward the bag, walks over to it and being sure I can see her hands well, opens it and begins to remove objects I’ve never seen.

***

There is what looks to be some sort of motor with places to attach god knows what to it. Next to it she lays out a long corded power pack, a tripod stand, three sets of what may be leather restraints, four metal and plastic handles or mechanical arms each with one end vastly different from the next, a tube of something, a clear case with a slim metal rod about 5 inches long and something that looks like glass and sounds like plastic. It has a small lock attached to it with the tiny key in the lock. It looks sort of like a cup but it has cut outs in it so it can’t possible hold liquid. The tube reads “water soluble lubricant”. I can not conceive how she could possibly hurt or kill me with this stuff. Indeed, I have no idea what the machine is even for.

There is one item here I know. I can’t remember where I’ve seen it, but I know it’s called a ball gag. It’s used for sex things and I flush at that thought. I ’m pretty sure I’ve had sex, but I can’t remember any of it. Or…what it felt like or how I even know what…?

I see a sudden grey scale image of a beautiful dark haired woman in a ball gag, her wrists tied to her shins with rope. ' _Is she going to put that on_?’ I wonder. I shake my head side to side to try and clear my vision. There are still things that I shouldn’t see.

“What kind of doctor are you again…” I ask doubtfully, “What exactly is that stuff?” I am in distress but these things baffle the hell out of me.

Deitre smiles and adjusts her glasses, the light glints off them for a second. “I am a psychologist, sexologist and behaviorist. To answer your question, I know it may not seem like it but, these are massage implements. Have you thought about it? Do you think you can do this?”

‘I haven’t been offered anything better’. I think sourly.

“…I don’t know what I’ve got left to lose…Sure, yeah. I’ll do it.” I sigh. I try to keep how desperate I am for some help out of my tone. I’m hungry, tired, weak. I feel like I’m going crazy. I’ve got one reserve of strength left in me if the guys with the guns try to rush me once these restraints are on.

She begins migrating the objects starting with the tripod. As she brings parts closer to the gurney, she attaches them to the small machine. She raises the back of the gurney the quietly, guides me to sit with my back strait against the gurney then slowly restrains my arms to the metal bar at the top of it. Deitre uses the set of straps to secure my forearms together above my head. I flex my biceps a bit. I could easily breakout of this, but I seriously hope whatever she’s gonna do helps me. I'm so tired of the sounds and the visions, I want them to go away.

With one of the other set of straps she bends my left leg at the knee, securing my shin to my thigh and my thigh to the gurney railings with straps designed for exactly this kind of restraint of a grown man. ' _Do these get sold by medical supply companies or are they custom made_?' I wonder. As she secures my right and puts the ball gag on me, I feel a warm shiver in my crotch. In this position my core muscles stretch and flex, my abdominals and obliques taunt.

I think ’What am I getting into? How’s this supposed to help my brain?’ But already the sounds and colors and faces are losing their intensity. I realize I feel excited and I crook my eyebrow at her, but do not move. She puts her hands under my buttocks and pulls forward, till there is no wiggle room for my arm or leg restraints. If I try to move my legs too much it’s apparent that I could break the rails or knock this thing over with myself still on it. Deitre then adjusts the gurney closer to the machine.

The last item she takes up is the clear thing. She uses a small key to unlock the device and it seems to open on a hinge. She fits one end of it over my dick and balls. She pulls my balls down out of it through a cut out on the base of the thing. She then gently places my thickening dick into the other half, smashing and squishing to make it fit. Once she succeeds in putting two cups of shlong in a half cup container, she pushes both ends together and puts the lock on. My genitals are being squeezed mercilessly.

“Uhnf!” I moan through the gag. It's high pitched and is filled with desire that I had no idea was in me. I can feel drool running down my chin. I roll my tongue across the back side of the ball between my teeth. I flex my fingers and press my thighs against the restraining leather. I shiver with anticipation and it gives me goosebumps.

This is not like any therapy I’ve ever heard anyone talk about (I think, I can’t remember, though).

“If you please, focus on everything you feel and listen to my voice,” She pulls one of the attachments forward. It has a telescopic rod and on it’s end an almost finger like piece of plastic. It has a curve facing upward. Deitre takes the lubricant and applies it to the device’s end. I thought it was for the machine.

Then she applies it to my anus.

“HEEEY, WHOA NOW!!” I try to shout but all that comes from my mouth is loud muffled whimpering.

“Sir, this will only cause discomfort for a moment. Please allow yourself to feel it, take deep breaths and notice every sensation and let them flow through your consciousness.” Deitre says in an unaffected voice.“Focus your senses on this experience.”

Her words are quickly the only thing I care about. I do as I’m asked and now I feel the lubrication gel cool on parts of me which are usually warm. I watch as she inserts the finger looking item right into me smoothly. At first it’s uncomfortable. It's like a cramping type of feeling. Then as it slides in further, it soon changes.

Suddenly it’s touching something inside and I start panting loud around the gag. It feels like nothing I can recall and is the first good to come out of all of this. The pressure is more delicious to me than food or drink and my eye lids flutter down for a moment.

Deitre reaches back to the top of the machine and turns it on. That was indeed a motor. It begins to whir and the attachment pushes an inch or two further into me then it slowly glides back outward firmly pressing on that place inside me.

“What do you feel right now?” She asks “Do you feel pleasant feelings? Do you feel pain? Can you imagine what you look like right now? Can you picture the things you feel inside right now? What do you feel, Sir?” She leaves the questions open ended, allowing me to answer them to myself.

She steps back nearly to the wall and it’s like she’s left the room. Quickly, it becomes just me and the machine. There is a noise, a rhythmic clink and whir coming from the machine and a barely audible squish. My mouth produces more siliva. The smell of leather fills my head. The motion is repeated and I inhale sharply each time it hits that spot going in and out. This thing is touching a pleasure center previously unknown to me. My cock gets harder, but there is nowhere for my stiffy to go, it’s just a hard ball of mild pain, tingling and that cool feeling you get when your foot falls asleep to go with the pleasure radiating in my ass out to the rest of my pelvis.

I watch the plastic finger, going in and out of me. I see some of the lubricant being pushed back on top of it. It feels a lot more yielding than I thought from the look of it.

I distantly notice my left arm. It’s not my arm and it’s not covered with metal, it is metal that is an arm. I wriggle my finger tips and I’m kind of shocked when they move and I kind of feel it. It’s not like how my flesh arm felt but I’m definitely feeling the straps around it.

It’s almost becoming too much. I’m beginning to squirm, it’s so intense. This feels similar to when my cock is getting stroked, but the bliss runs so deep inside me, the lower half of my body is consumed by this feeling. I bite down on the gag which yields a little to my teeth.

I have a sudden insight about how having a filled vagina may feel. My cock, it also fills me with ecstasy now, the pressure still hurts but it’s a good hurt and running through it is that force of pleasure in my body. The maddening slow pace of it is making me really lose it. I’m calling out around the gag, the sounds I’m making are not my natural speech patterns. They are just primal sounds of bliss and hunger. I can feel warm spit running down my chest, it’s in my chest hair and pooling on my navel.

“Soldier, do you feel climax beginning to build? Can you alert me when you are close?” Deitre asks. She begins walking slowly toward the gurney again.

“Yeeees!!!” I scream around the gag, nodding frantically. My legs are getting tired but I can’t stop my hips from moving side to side. The straps are digging into me. My head is clearing because the massive sexual tension building is smashing every other thought in my mind and for a while all I can think is ' _Yes,Yes,Yes,Yes!_ ’; I’m so close to orgasm. I look in her direction, into her eyes and to my horror, she turns to the machine then flicks the off switch.

My orgasm disappears instantly wilting like an unwatered flower. The pressure of it just wafts away like mist on the wind. I throw my head back and cry out with frustration, “Uuuuggghh!! Shit!” I let my head drop to my breast bone a moment. I look back up, directly at her and try to shout “What the fuck!? What are you trying to do–” none of my words make it passed the ball. All I can do is breath heavily and glare into her eyes accusingly.

“Sorry, maybe next time, Soldier. Your looking a bit better. I think this treatment is working quite well.” Deitre says, expressionless and with no sympathy in her eye. Just the calm awareness of a physician.

She moves forward and begins unlocking the weird penis prison on my junk. When it flops out, it’s harder than trigonometry. It’s pale in some spots and I can see blood rushing into those places, turning it red. It’s purple in other places and it looks like it has been choking to death. As I suspected, it’s a hard son of a bitch to kill just like it’s wearer. It feels amazing to have the blood rushing back in, I know now why anyone would make such a device.

I’m still pissed, but when she asks, “May I continue to treat you?” I cast my gaze down and nod twice. I relax my arms and legs into the restraints and wait for the next “treatment”.

***

I’m getting my breath back and I think back to a few moments ago.

She called me 'Soldier’.

I can kinda feel the truth in it. I have no specific memories back yet, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t get the physique I have from loafing around a military base. No, I’ve been active, been fighting, been on field operations.

’ _What else? What else can jog my memory??_ ’ I think.

Well, at least the visual hallucinations are backing off and I can hear better, a lot better. My head doesn’t feel like someone has hold of it and is shaking vigorously anymore. I’m tired, I’m dehydrated, I’m covered in sweat. I’m also so horny I can’t fucking think of anything else, all I want is to start again. I also feel an almost jovial air of confidence coming into me. I am hooked into this little game. I want to continue, let her throw what she’s got my way, I can handle it. I want to handle it. Desperately.

Deitre is turning her little friend on it’s tripod and attaching the thin metal rod. I kind of hope she doesn’t put it in my ass and I kinda hope she does. Where else can you put things in a man, honestly? Certainly not my mouth, she seems to like this gag where it is. I pray no where else on my face, I have zero desire for that thing to go up my nose or in my eye. I also pray she was telling the truth when she said the pain would be minimal.

She returns to the gurney and asks “Are you well to continue on, Sir?” She brushes my sweaty hair away from my eyes. Her hand is cool and soft. The gesture is almost tender but her manner remains professional. It feels like the touch of an angel to me. Or demon.

“Uh-huhn.“ I make a sound of agreement into the ball gag. I give one firm nod. I am more than ready. I am desperate with passion and if she built this machine then I’m sure she knows it.

She adjusts the telescopic arm of this attachment to an area above my belly and for a moment I think she’s going to let this thing plunge the metal rod into my guts and kill me. Then she wraps her right hand firmly around my cock, and my goodness gracious, it feels so good just for it to be touched. I’m sure if she just held it and didn’t even stroke me, I’d still be able to cum all over her hand before long. She uses her left hand to turn on her machine again and the rod slowly lowers to my penis.

"I must ask again, for you to focus on the here and now. Let yourself feel your nerves responding to the massage. Near the end of our session you will be allowed to stimulate until completion.”

This woman is the cruelest thing I’ve ever seen.

She then guides the rod into my urethra. It’s slathered in lubricant. For a second I tense up in anticipation. It keeps going and going, slowly entering my body a way nothing ever has I sure. The rod lowers a few inches moving at a pace only a mechanical device can, so slowly and accurately. The constant sliding pressure entrances me. I exhale sharply and emit a harsh sound,“Haaagh!!” around the gag.

There is tightness kind of like the tight grip she’s got on the outside of me. She flicks some switches on it’s side and it begins to just slowly pull out. I squeeze my eyes shut and notice that I’m curling my toes inward toward my heels.

The word “Mission” comes flickering out from the dark spot where my memory should be. I want to chase it and try to remember more. I can’t. Because my cock, it has never felt this way. It feels so goddamn good. It is like a massage but in a place where God did not intend for you to be touched. This is the most taboo thing I've ever done, I know it on an instictual level. I'm being a bad bad man for letting someone touch me here and a bad bad man for loving it so much.

The machine arm lowers again and she holds her position, not moving her hand or fingers and when it goes in again…it’s slow and the metal warms as it’s going down. At the end of the ark it settles and doesn’t move for a few seconds. My anus puckers and because of the lubrication, makes a rude noise. It’s one of the soft wet noises lovemaking can produce, it embarrasses you a bit but, you don’t stop because of it.

It goes on for a while, the slow movement hypnotizing me going up, up, up and then down, down, down. In and out, over and over. My eyes drift shut. And when “Siberia” came unbidden to my mind I hardly noticed. All I notice is my body and the sexual acts being performed on me.

I’m intently focused on feeling the smooth piece of metal docking into my cock. I’m aware I’m being fucked like I’d never been before for the second time that day. It gives me so much pleasure, I had no idea this existed. I think ’This is what it might feel like to have someone inside you.’ The tension is beginning to build. It’s a soul deep aching at this time. A promise of an explosion of sensation as I orgasm.

Then for the first time I realized someone was speaking over a loudspeaker. It still isn’t English but, I’m startled out of my massage by the fact that I knew what it was. I open my eyes and look around. It’s Russian. It’s repeating the same thing again and again.

“You have to pay attention, Soldier, or this will not work. Please provide me with your undivided attention.” Deitre says in that calm voice. There is a slight edge this time an insistence that wasn't there before.

She reaches out turns off the machine, pulls out the rod and pushes the machine away. She climbs onto the gurney with me. She sits between my thighs with her knees bent, butt on her heels of her pristine shoes.

She places her left hand on the back of my right thigh and presses the middle finger of her right hand up my anus and begins manually massaging the bundle of pleasure there. Once that hand is settled, she grasps my cock once more. This time she does move her fingers. She rubs the ball of her thumb up and down on the still lubricated head of my dick, right on the opening finding a little node of sensitive tissue there. It’s so receptive, I started wiggling around again, trying to get out of the path of the oncoming wave of sensation. Each pass of her finger issues pleasure feeling like zap of electricity.

In a few strokes I’m screaming “Oh, my god, oh, my god! Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” into the ball gag wildly, that last 'fuck’ whined down into a sob, hardly a sound you’d think can come from a man. My eyes are squeezed shut tight. I throw my head back because I honestly have no control over any part of myself anymore. They all belong to her (’ _…them…_ ’ my mind whispers) now.

The end. All I want is the end. All I want is the reward for all of this. All I want is to cum, all I want is for the moment to be here, I can feel it rising in me like a crescendo of violins shredding the night at an orchestra. I want this moment to last forever. My existence will be a raw viceral thing, pure in it's intensity, beautiful in it's vulnerability.

“…Devyat’…”

I feel my all muscles are so tense I have no clue how it doesn’t hurt. I’m panting like a dog, moaning low in my throat the sound is almost a growl. There are no words anymore. Tears are streaming down my face. My open eyes are looking inward at a constellation of nerve endings lit up as brightly as they can go. I’ve never felt so good I cried before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Something in the back of my head…it hasn’t clicked, but it’s feels as if it’s lining up.

“…Gruzavój Vagón…”

Her movement is small and precise and slow. Her hands work as if she’s sewing sutures or wrapping a bandage.

I hang on the edge of what seems is forever. Then the reward, the orgasm, comes crashing down on my body. It seems to go on and on. With my head still tossed back I scream again, a long and loud sound that sucks in and drowns every other sound for a while. My ejaculate doesn’t shoot out as it normally would, it dribbles out and down in a slow stream on the back of her hand. I’m shaking all over.

The words are said again and I can understand now. I hear everything this time and larger pieces click into place. They finish me off as she has finished me off and after there is no more chaos.

My mind is calm again. I take a deep breath, like one I’d take upon waking up. Perhaps from a dream or a nightmare which feels so real when you're down in it but, is just a wonderful awful story when you open your eyes.

I remember.  
I remember…

She climbs off the gurney again and wipes off her hand on the sheets like what’s on her is no more than water. She begins the process of undoing the straps. With my arms and legs free I turn on the gurney, letting my legs hang off. My back is strait, my expression empty of emotion. The tears are drying and so is the cum.

“Do you know who I am?” The woman says.

I nod once.

“Do you know where you are?” She asks.

Again, I nod once. “Do you know who you are?”

Now thrice, I nod one last time.

This time she nods and then says, “Good Morning, Soldier.”

“Ready To Comply.” I respond in fluent Russian.


End file.
